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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24494647">Lasting Impressions</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poisonedapples/pseuds/Poisonedapples'>Poisonedapples</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders is a Mess, Blood, Blood and Injury, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Needs a Hug, Gen, Genderfluid Deceit | Janus Sanders, He also needs a break honestly, If you couldnt tell by the stalking, Illegal Activities, Kidnapping, Logan sanders is a detective, Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Stalking, Swearing, Trans Male Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:06:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,245</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24494647</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poisonedapples/pseuds/Poisonedapples</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Virgil makes a good friend at the weirdest time of day; four in the morning, where everyone and their dog is fast asleep. However, deciding to befriend that person ends up getting him into a lot more trouble than he could ever suspect. His new friend ended up going missing that same night. And Virgil was the last person to see him alive.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anxiety | Virgil Sanders &amp; Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders &amp; Elliott (Cartoon Therapy), Anxiety | Virgil Sanders &amp; Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders &amp; Morality | Patton Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders &amp; Deceit | Janus Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders &amp; Sleep | Remy Sanders</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Three Hours Before</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Chapter Warnings: Kidnapping, missing people, nightmares and anxiety, mentions of death, mentions of murder (regarding Disney characters), blood, mentions of drunkenness/alcohol, and swearing</p>
<p>Notes: Heed the warnings, as this story (although not mentioned a lot in this chapter) will contain missing people, kidnapping, and its fair share of violence as we go along the story. Always read chapter triggers before you dive in.</p>
<p>Also, although Roman and Virgil kinda flirt in this chapter, I swear they will be platonic</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was 3:51 AM when Virgil felt himself jolt awake in a cold sweat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He frantically turned his bedside table lamp on, ignoring the pain of the blinding light on his adjusting eyes. It wasn’t often he got nightmares anymore, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>God </span>
  </em>
  <span>when he did, they were </span>
  <em>
    <span>horrible. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He could always barely remember what it was about; something with not being able to scream and a weird creature chasing him, but nothing more than that. Instead he was left to shake in his bed and attempt to breathe in for four seconds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>In for four...hold for seven- fuck, wait-...four...hold for seven…come on! In for four...sev- Are you fucking kidding me!?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil jumped out of bed, ignoring the weakness in his legs and shakiness of his arms and threw on his hoodie and a pair of jeans. He only bothered with putting on a sports bra, instead of trying to breathe in his binder, then stuffed his phone in his pocket and walked out his bedroom door. He was careful not to slam it to not alert his roommate Elliott, instead quietly scooting himself to the front door of their apartment. Despite his haste, he double checked to make sure he locked the door before going down the apartment steps. Like always, Elliott would be none the wiser.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil walked out to the front of the apartments and took a left down the block. His body was still shaking, but the fresh air always helped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s fine. You’re fine.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>...It’s gonna be another one of these days, isn’t it?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil sighed. Anxiety was always the worst. Sometimes, all it took was for you to wake up in a certain mood and hope it was gone by the next day. He’d certainly gotten </span>
  <em>
    <span>better </span>
  </em>
  <span>over the years when it came to nightmares and having to run away at terrible times in the night, but disorders never completely went away. Not that he’d heard of, at least.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The air had a different feeling to it outside. Fall was cooling the atmosphere and giving Virgil a kind of contentment he could only reach in this time of year. Halloween decorations had filled store shelves before September ended, though none of those stores were open at this time in the early morning. Instead, Virgil walked down the street and occupied himself with looking at street lights and the occasional car passing by.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The very, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>occasional car.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil plucked his earbuds out of his hoodie pocket and plugged them into his phone, putting a random playlist on scramble to drown out the eerie silence. Everything was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>quiet </span>
  </em>
  <span>at this time. Usually in the city, the streets would be so noisy Virgil was more at risk of a sensory overload than being </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> kind of uneasy. In a way, walking alone in the dark was the worst way to recover from a nightmare, no matter how many times it became his solution. He felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>watched.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>...Shut up, no, don’t think like that. No panic attacks for you. Not in the middle of the damn street.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil pressed his earbuds deeper into his ears, as if that could muffle his thoughts the same way it damaged his hearing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At least the air was a nice change of pace. Fresh air always helped him when he felt like he couldn’t breathe, and now the chills in his body could be explained with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>different </span>
  </em>
  <span>reason. Even if it really wasn’t that cold outside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil felt the cold bring a sudden wind to the back of his feet. He almost jumped three feet in the air as his mind raced with thoughts of </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone’s chasing you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but as he looked around, no one was there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He saw something move in the corner of his eye and jumped again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil kept deathly still, like any sudden movement would bring this mysterious shadow to kill him. The only thing keeping him sane was the emo music blasting through his earbuds, the rest looking like something out of one of his horror movies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He saw something in the corner of his eye again, shooting to look at the black blob right next to his foot. He took a sudden, sharp breath to stop himself from screaming such a sketchy time of night and darted his head around to find the source.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Underneath Virgl’s feet was a very offended looking squirrel. Before he could smack himself in the face for being an</span>
  <em>
    <span> idiot, </span>
  </em>
  <span>the creature scurried away and disappeared in a dark alleyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil rubbed at his eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jesus, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m really on edge. It’s just a damn squirrel.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, Virgil turned around and walked faster until the alleyway was out of his sight. He sighed and attempted to calm himself down a little, but his chest still felt ready to burst from all the fear. He breathed in deeply, then out again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hands still shook, but it was okay.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Everything is alright.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He paused his speed walk long enough to continue his breathing patterns. He focused on the feeling of nighttime air instead of the what-ifs. He looked up to gaze at the dim stars, barely visible from so much light pollution, but still a soothing presence. With each time he counted a second of breathing in, he counted another star in the sky. The sight of twinkling lights with a bright moon in the sky was more than calming. It reminded him of the nights he’d spend on his parents roof, looking up and not bothering to think about what was down on Earth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Up there, everything was quiet. Peaceful. There was no sound or responsibility. No student loans or nightmares, only emptiness with chunks of rock and gas. The chaos was too far away for you to really be bothered with it, you could watch from afar and be completely safe on your own floating rock. Out there, nothing mattered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil closed his eyes and took a deep breath in. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Everything is quiet. Everything would be okay.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The peacefulness was all that really mattered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why hello, handsome!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil’s whole body jolted like an electric shock when an unexpected hand touched his shoulder. He yanked his earbuds out and turned to his attacker with wide eyes, fully ready to fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>slice</span>
  </em>
  <span> the dude.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The idiot only smiled and waved. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you so badly! Are you alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil blinked. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine, thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before he could put his earbuds back in, the guy put both his hands on Virgil’s biceps and pulled his arms down. Virgil was </span>
  <em>
    <span>fully </span>
  </em>
  <span>ready to knock his teeth out and make a run for it, but before he could reel his arm back, he noticed blood and scratches all over the guy’s face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil did a double take at him long enough for the guy to get his </span>
  <em>
    <span>damn hands </span>
  </em>
  <span>off of him and smile. “I mean more than you being okay after I scared you. You seem to be quite on edge in general.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Bitch, why do you care? </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Well, it’s the asscrack of night, better be safe than sorry if you don’t wanna get murdered.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laughed. “Fair point, fair point. And what are you doing out at a time you call ‘the asscrack of night’, as you so elegantly worded it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil raised an eyebrow. “How about it’s none of your business?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guy put his hand on his chest in feign offense. “So cruel to me! Here I was, trying to be a </span>
  <em>
    <span>humble </span>
  </em>
  <span>citizen and help you out, and this is the thanks I get?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rolled his eyes. “Get used to disappointment. The only reason I didn’t pummel you is because you look like a wreck.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guy put a hand to his face. “Is it the blood?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s definitely the blood.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ugh, I suppose that’s what I get for trying to have a good time so late in the night! I’ll admit, I’m exhausted and also a little buzzed. So maybe trying to befriend a cat at 3 in the morning wasn’t my </span>
  <em>
    <span>greatest </span>
  </em>
  <span>idea.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It looks like that cat wanted to gut you alive.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“... I’m not the best with animals.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil couldn’t help but roll his eyes and laugh. Something about a tipsy guy trying to flirt after being attacked by a cat was </span>
  <em>
    <span>hilarious. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“You sound like an idiot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just a little bit! But that’s what’s so endearing about me, I like to imagine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You keep imagining then, Princey.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guy seemed to freeze in place. “... Princey?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil’s eyes widened, awkwardly coughing to try and play himself off as collected. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Damnit Virgil, play it off! </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Well I don’t know your name, and you sound like a spoiled, dramatic prince, so… You’re Princey now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guy chuckled. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nailed it. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“I guess that makes sense, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am </span>
  </em>
  <span>very dramatic. But that’s just what makes me wonderful.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You tell yourself that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil started to walk ahead of Princey, only for him to stumble over his feet to keep his pace with Virgil. At least he wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>too </span>
  </em>
  <span>drunk, and he certainly didn’t seem harmless. Of course, Virgil hadn’t known him that long, but right now he just seemed like a major dork who wanted to talk to someone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Relatable, honestly.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guy kept his pace next to Virgil, though staying a reasonable distance away before standing up proudly and smiling again. “Though if you </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to know my real name...it’s Roman. Roman Goldsberry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil hummed. “S’up Roman. I’m not telling you my name, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roman gasped. “Why not!?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because I’m not gonna make it that easy for you to find where I live and murder me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roman shrugged and nodded his head. “Okay, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fair. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I </span>
  <em>
    <span>guess.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe if I meet you in a less sketchy place, I’ll consider telling you my name.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I suppose I’ll have to call you something else until then. Something that </span>
  <em>
    <span>suits </span>
  </em>
  <span>you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh really? What do you think suits me?” Virgil asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Something dark and brooding, maybe with a dash of paranoia. After all, that hoodie you have is </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite </span>
  </em>
  <span>the emo aesthetic.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You picked up my vibes pretty quickly there, damn.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have many talents! Now, as for something to call you…” Roman seemed to think about it for a long time, “...I think I’ll call you Emo Nightmare!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil reeled. “...Thank you. Best compliment I’ve ever gotten.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roman pouted like a toddler who dropped their candy. “Compliment!? Well </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span> I can’t call you that! If you’re going to be so </span>
  <em>
    <span>rude </span>
  </em>
  <span>to me, then I should be able to be rude back!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil smirked, “Really now? Go ahead then, make a nickname that offends me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roman seemed to think about it again, “Gerard Wayward?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Clever, but I don’t think you know what wayward means.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m only warming up! How about Brad Pitiful?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That one’s just funny.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Count Woelaf!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My feelings have yet to be hurt.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Surly Temple? JD-lightful? Incredible Sulk?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Literally where the fuck are you getting these?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roman put his hands on his hips. “I’m good at improv! Oh! What about Henry Ravens-brood?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil put an offended hand to his chest. “Now </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>one is mean. Congrats Princey, you just offended me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roman clapped his hands together. “Fantastic! I knew I could- wait...you know Phantom Manor?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil shrugged. “What can I say, I’m a Disney fan.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You? </span>
  </em>
  <span>A fan of fairytales and magic? I find </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>hard to believe based on your </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You barely even know me dude, don’t give yourself so much credit.” Virgil tried not to smile at Roman’s dramaticized offense. “And that’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>way </span>
  </em>
  <span>too much of an oversimplification for Disney. I mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>seriously, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Constance Hatchaway fucking murdered ten of her husbands! Who even marries that many people?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll have you know that she had </span>
  <em>
    <span>five </span>
  </em>
  <span>husbands, not ten! Also that </span>
  <em>
    <span>hardly </span>
  </em>
  <span>counts, it’s a ride all about ghosts! Of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course </span>
  </em>
  <span>people have to die!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doesn’t mean she had to hack them to death. They could have toned down the axe murdering part.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please, </span>
  </em>
  <span>that’s nothing compared to the scene where Mufasa gets </span>
  <em>
    <span>trampled. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It’s not like you </span>
  <em>
    <span>watch </span>
  </em>
  <span>the murder happen, you only see it implied with the paintings and when her bouquet turns into an axe on the ride!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil smirked. “So you </span>
  <em>
    <span>admit </span>
  </em>
  <span>that Disney can get dark sometimes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roman scoffed, seemingly at a loss of words. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>said </span>
  <em>
    <span>that!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally </span>
  </em>
  <span>just said that Mufasa’s death scene is really dark.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was a necessary part of the plot! Simba would have grown up to be a selfish king who only cared for power if he didn’t have to save everyone from Scar!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doesn’t change the fact that it’s super dark and not just ‘fairytales and magic’, Princey.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roman did an overdramatic, offended gasp as his hand went to his chest once again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Is that the only emotion this dude knows? </span>
  </em>
  <span>“I can </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> believe you! Twisting my words in such a fiendish way!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seriously dude, are you a clown or some shit as your day job? Because the way you act is kind of hilarious.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The offense dropped from Roman’s face almost immediately, replaced with a soft, yet still prideful smile better fit for this time at night. “I’m going to ignore the clown part and say that actually, I’m an actor for the community theater only a couple blocks from here. That usually tends to explain my behavior to people.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds about right, yeah. You any good?” Virgil asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I like to imagine so! In three days from now, I’ll be playing the lead of Fiddler on the Roof for our fall musical! I’m usually too busy to make the bigger shows, but I tried my best to find the time this year.” Roman’s proud smile faltered for a moment into something softer, more sad. Like he was suddenly grieving a lost memory. “...Though I might end up having to miss it after all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil tilted his head to the side. “Why’s that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roman shrugged, and for a second, Virgil could see past the dramatics and pride. He looked </span>
  <em>
    <span>lonely</span>
  </em>
  <span>, almost. “Personal stuff. Since you won’t even tell me your name, I believe I’m inclined to keep that information to myself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You always tease people this much?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roman chuckled. “Not usually. But I am exhausted, so maybe I’m a little slap happy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil pulled out his phone to look at the time. </span>
  <em>
    <span>4:19 AM. Holy shit. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Yeah, no wonder. It’s late as shit, and I gotta wake up at eleven today.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think maybe you should go home then. I would offer to walk you, but considering you won’t say your name, I doubt you’ll let me know your address.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You got that right. You should go home too, before someone kidnaps you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roman stopped suddenly, right below a street light. He turned around to face Virgil with such a </span>
  <em>
    <span>sad </span>
  </em>
  <span>smile, but Virgil couldn’t tell if that was from exhaustion or not. He looked at Virgil so </span>
  <em>
    <span>softly </span>
  </em>
  <span>for a long moment in a way that made him feel vulnerable. “Perhaps you’re right, but don’t worry your angsty heart about it, I can take care of myself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, fair.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Though, you are making me think, Emo Nightmare.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil tried his hardest not to blush. “Think about what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe you would like to see the show?” Roman asked, “I won’t be able to participate, but I’d love to hear how it went. And if you like Disney, maybe you can appreciate a classic musical as well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil shrugged. “I mean, maybe. What days?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roman straightened his maroon polo and brushed nonexistent dirt off one of his sleeves. “If you go to the Sanders Community Theater website, it’ll show you all the details. I would tell you myself, but it’s a lot of information, and I really need to be heading out, sadly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil took one last look at Roman. Even with a scratched up face and knuckles, he still looked like the softest person Virgil could ever meet. He was dramatic yet funny, and he didn’t seem to actually want to cause any harm. If anything, he just seemed like a humble idiot who wanted to make a friend late at night. Considering Roman also called him </span>
  <em>
    <span>handsome, </span>
  </em>
  <span>maybe he wanted a little bit more, but Virgil didn’t really mind. For someone who was tipsy and exhausted at four in the morning, Roman seemed like a good guy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe he’s not so bad.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll, uh…” Virgil hesitated, “I’ll be sure to check it out if I can. We all need a break sometimes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We do.” Roman whispered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, so go home and get some sleep. I know you’re tipsy, but don’t get yourself murdered by being out here all night.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roman let out a tired sigh, looking behind himself as if to check if he could see his destination from where he stood. “You’re right about that, Jack Skellington. But I have one more pit stop to make, so don’t worry about me. I know what I’m doing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you say so, I guess.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roman turned back to Virgil. “Though, if you’re interested...maybe you and I could swap phone numbers? So you can tell me about the show if you see it, and so our destined crossing on a raven black night doesn’t go to waste?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil snorted. “Raven black night?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m tired, shush. Let me be my own type of poetic.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say, I guess.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roman took out his phone and pressed a couple buttons before handing it to Virgil. Virgil stared at it before taking it with a smirk. “...Android, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roman didn’t just roll his eyes, he rolled his entire </span>
  <em>
    <span>head. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Oh, shush and put in the darn number!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil laughed but did as he was told anyway, putting in his number and saving the contact as </span>
  <em>
    <span>Emo Nightmare</span>
  </em>
  <span> before handing it back to Roman. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roman smiled at the name so fondly Virgil’s heart almost broke. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This dude’s gonna be pretty damn disappointed when he finds out my name is fucking Virgil, of all things. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Do you mind if I send you a text to make sure it works?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nope.” Virgil said with a popped </span>
  <em>
    <span>p.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though, instead of sending a random letter or a hello like a </span>
  <em>
    <span>normal fucking person, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Roman posed under the street light and held his phone up for a selfie. He ran his hands through his hair in a fruitless attempt to fix its messiness but eventually gave up, smiling for the camera and dropping the pose long enough for Virgil to feel his phone buzz in his pocket.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil pulled it out:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Unknown sent a photo</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Unknown: Make sure to remember this beautiful face :P</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shook his head with disapproval, but also to hide his smile behind the safety of movement. “Seriously?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t you worry Beetlejuice, you’ll get used to it after knowing me for long enough.” Roman tried to flip his hair back, but considering it was way too short to do so, it was a fail. “Though if I don’t respond to any texts you may send these next few days, don’t worry too much about it. I’m going to be awfully busy and won’t have my phone on me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, noted.” Virgil sighed and put his phone in his pocket. “Talk to you later then, Princey?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I sure hope so. Though, Brad Pitiful?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pretty sure you already said that one, but yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s 4:24 AM right now. Don’t forget that number. Considering it’s the time you last saw me, I’m sure it has some kind of luck to it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil almost physically facepalmed at that. “You have </span>
  <em>
    <span>such </span>
  </em>
  <span>an ego.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s what people love about me!” Roman laughed as he dropped the overexaggerated smile for a second to replace it with seriousness. “Though, I am serious about you seeing the show. I think you’ll enjoy it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, I heard you. I’ll look into it at least, promise. Though for now, I’m fucking tired and I gotta go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roman hummed, and without another word, the two turned in opposite directions to head to their next destination. Which for Virgil, was straight to bed until he woke up wondering if all of this was a fever dream. He did hear one last thing be called out to him: “So long, Dark and Stormy Night!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil didn’t respond, he only waved behind himself and hoped Roman saw it. When he turned the corner and was for sure away from Roman’s sight, he pulled out his phone and went to his contacts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>New contact added: Prince Underarm Stink</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Satisfied with himself, Virgil walked the next couple blocks back to his apartment. Once he opened the door, he crashed onto his bed without bothering to change, letting sleep overcome his body as fast as it had woke him up in the first place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll text him tomorrow morning, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>just to test it out. Even if he doesn’t respond.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was the last thing Virgil thought before he fell right to sleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had been three days since the night Virgil met Roman. He’s sent one text every morning since then, but had yet to get a response to any of them. Considering Roman said he would be busy, he wasn’t too worried. If Roman didn’t respond in more than a week, though, he would consider himself ghosted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh well, it was a stretch thinking the cute guy I met at 4 AM would text me back anyway.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the third morning, Virgil sent a text saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>You there yet??? Lol, </span>
  </em>
  <span>before packing up his stuff and starting to walk to his classroom campus.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The walk was normal, nothing but other college students bumping into each other on the street and in the hallways until he made it to his classroom, leaning back in his seat and checking his phone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No text messages, but he </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>have a couple notifications on Tumblr. Not surprising, but it was still something to occupy himself with.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few more kids entered the classroom, stopping in the doorway right behind Virgil. “D’you know anything about this?” One of them asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nope. The guy doesn’t look familiar.” The other said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Damn. A ten thousand dollar reward would do wonders for a college loan.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil slowly lowered his phone back into his pocket at the sound of cash. With this amount of eavesdropping, he felt like a cartoon character with their ear growing five times in size.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That could pay one year’s worth of a dorm. Ten grand doesn’t do </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit </span>
  </em>
  <span>for loans anymore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Still dude, that’s ten grand you don’t gotta work for. I wish I had that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then go looking for information on this guy, I guess.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first guy laughed. “Maybe! I hope they find him, though. It’s always sad to hear about missing people. They usually find their bodies, like, a month later.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, people are fucked up. Now come on, I need your notes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Again!? Dude, you’re a damn mooch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two voices faded away to Virgil’s left as they walked away. Once the two guys sat down, Virgil turned around to squint at a paper he hadn’t noticed when he first walked in, even getting out of his chair to take a better look.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though the moment he got closer, Virgil felt his stomach fill with </span>
  <em>
    <span>lead.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Missing: Roman Goldsberry. Last seen October 2nd.</span>
  </em>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Virgil stared at it for a suspicious amount of time. His eyes were widened like a bug ready to be squashed, ripping the paper off the wall and taking a closer look. No matter how many times he squished the paper to his face and examined every letter written, the facts were logically unmistakable. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is the guy I met.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The guy I met on October 3rd.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil wanted to vomit. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>be him. It just </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>be. Stuff like this doesn’t just </span>
  <em>
    <span>happen, </span>
  </em>
  <span>you don’t meet someone only for them to go missing that same </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> day!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Is this why he wasn’t responding to his phone!? Because someone grabbed him off the street and locked him in a truck!? Because he’s somewhere in the middle of the woods, probably being tortured </span>
  <em>
    <span>right this second!?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It isn’t him. It can’t be. I’m remembering it wrong. Missing people just freak me out. They’re not. The same. Person.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil felt a lightbulb go off in his head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The photo.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roman took a photo of himself before they parted ways. He’d even said not to forget his face with that stupid egotistical smile that made Virgil wanna roll his eyes so far they went into the back of his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grabbing his phone was like trying to grab an ice cube off the floor, but Virgil managed it, shakily opening his phone and going into his recent contacts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Picture, picture, picture...there!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil put his phone and the paper on his desk and compared them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Same hair color. Same hair style. Same smile. Same eyes. The only difference is the clothing.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t want to believe it. He wanted to pick apart every possible difference in the photos until he </span>
  <em>
    <span>somehow </span>
  </em>
  <span>managed to convince himself they were different people. But there was no way. Even in his hysteria, there was no way he could ignore that he had seen someone hours before their possible </span>
  <em>
    <span>demise</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>...He couldn’t stay here listening to a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lecture. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He didn’t care about his grade tanking because of a zero on attendance, or about the homework he’d miss turning in if he left, he had to </span>
  <em>
    <span>do something. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He had to </span>
  <em>
    <span>help somehow, </span>
  </em>
  <span>even if Virgil didn’t know exactly what he was doing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The professor had just stepped in front of the class and started to speak. Virgil grabbed his bag and didn’t hear a word that was said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He ran out the door and didn’t come back.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. One Step Forward</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter Warnings: Kidnapping, stalking, swearing, some unsafe binding, a couple mentions of alcohol, mentions of past injuries and blood, implied past fighting, past abuse mentions, money issues, and food mentions</p>
<p>Notes: A huge thanks to CornyBird on Ao3 for beta reading this story (and also most of my stuff)! You’re the best &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Virgil’s leg was bouncing violently on the floor as his thumb hovered over the call button. He’d run home as quickly as he could and was still panting from the exercise, but Virgil refused to take off his binder. If he was going to visit the </span>
  <em>
    <span>police, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he didn’t want them to see his chest.</span>
</p>
<p><span>It was such a stupid thing to worry about. Out of all</span> <span>the things that happened in the last </span><em><span>hour, </span></em><span>he was worried about a detective seeing that he had boobs. Usually if his binder was restricting him, he’d take it off the second he was able to. But considering now he was a part of a </span><em><span>missing person investigation, </span></em><span>that seemed like the least of his worries.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>There was a phone number on the bottom of the missing person poster he’d grabbed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If you have any information about Roman Goldsberry, </span>
  </em>
  <span>it said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please call the local precinct at the number below.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had the number dialed. All Virgil had to do was press call. But facing the severity of the situation (and his phone anxiety) seemed like a task impossible to overcome.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil threw his phone on the bed and started taking off his shirt to get to his binder. The thought of heading back out into the world without his binder </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrified </span>
  </em>
  <span>him, but right now he could barely breathe. So he slipped on a sports bra and took in a couple deep breaths, feeling too jittery to do his usual stretches afterward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He breathed in for four seconds instead. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Your information could save this dude’s life.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He held it for seven seconds. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s terrifying, but you have no choice. This is life or death for someone here. You have the power to save him. Do it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, out for eight. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just hit call and get it over with. If you don’t, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil looked at his phone on the bed, still opened to the number ready to hit the dial. He slowly walked over to his phone like it was a ticking bomb. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Do it. Hit call. It’s really not that hard. Just call it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Alright. On three...one, two...two and a half…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Three.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The phone began to ring as Virgil paced around his room. The ringing seemed to last a lifetime before a voice finally interrupted the sound.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are speaking to Police Detective Logan Wilson, please note that all calls made to this number are recorded and responses may have a delay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil paused for a long time. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Is this a recorded message?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Is anyone there?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck. Apparently not. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Uh, hey, sorry...I just, uh...it told me on the missing posters for Roman Goldsberry to call this number if I had any information…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil heard a thud in the background. “Yes, you have the right number. What do you have to report?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well…” Virgil looked at the smiling missing photo still crumpled up on his bed. “The poster says that the guy was last seen on October 2nd. I talked to him at 4 AM on October 3rd.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another thud. “And you are certain you talked to Goldsberry?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. He told me his name and we talked for a while. I know this sounds kinda crazy, but...I think I might have been the last person to see him…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The other side of the line was quiet for a while. “Would you mind telling me your name?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, Virgil. Virgil Blackbell.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you for calling, Mr. Blackbell. However, I would like to question you about Goldsberry further in person. Would you be willing to come to my office at the Eleventh Precinct for questioning?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No turning back now, huh? </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Uh yeah, sure. What time?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well...it’s noon right now, and unless you have any other responsibilities, how would you feel about one o’clock?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can do that, sure.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Let’s get this over with.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for you at that time, then. Have a nice day, sir.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, see ya.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With that, the detective on the other end hung up. Virgil took his free thirty minutes before he had to leave as time to collapse in bed and scream into the pillows, which provided </span>
  <em>
    <span>some </span>
  </em>
  <span>relief from the pent-up anxiety he’d been having. But still, his limbs felt weak and something deep inside Virgil’s body wanted to vomit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I have to go to a precinct. To talk to a detective. For questioning. In a missing person case.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil stuffed his face deeper into his pillow and screamed again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why couldn’t this shit have happened to someone else?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But there was no turning back now. In an hour, Virgil would be talking to a detective about a guy he barely knew. At least then, he could drop this whole </span>
  <em>
    <span>mess.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was the only thing keeping him together—dropping this whole thing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil took a deep breath and curled up in his bed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s alright, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>we’ll get this over with.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Then I’ll never have to worry about missing people ever again.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Virgil made it to the precinct five minutes before one o’clock, the detective was already waiting for him at the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He always thought of detectives as the ones in old mystery movies, the ones with magnifying glasses and a brown trenchcoat, but this person didn’t look </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything </span>
  </em>
  <span>like that. Instead, he was wearing a black suit with a dark blue tie, the square glasses on his face making him look like a nerdy businessman more than anything. Virgil would have laughed if he didn’t remember that detectives have more fighting skills than he ever would.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The detective approached him. “Are you Virgil Blackbell, by any chance?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Er, yeah, that’s me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I appreciate you coming here, Mr. Blackbell.” He held out his hand to shake, which Virgil accepted awkwardly. “I’m Detective Wilson, I’m investigating the disappearance case of Roman Goldsberry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh...hey.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you would follow me this way, I will take you to my office and we can begin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil shrugged, “Alright.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logan led him down a thin hallway full of offices. They all had frosted windows with various names of (what Virgil assumed to be) other detectives printed into them. At the far end of the hallway, Logan stopped at a door titled </span>
  <em>
    <span>Detective Wilson</span>
  </em>
  <span>, opening the door and motioning Virgil to go in first.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The room was decently small. There was a two person table in the middle, but on the side was a computer with two monitors and a cheap swivel chair. The place was so organized Virgil felt embarrassed for his </span>
  <em>
    <span>own</span>
  </em>
  <span> room, even if the detective couldn’t possibly know what it looked like.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logan sat down at the table and gestured for Virgil to sit across from him. Virgil did so hesitantly, crossing his hands in his lap to try to keep </span>
  <em>
    <span>some </span>
  </em>
  <span>level of composure. The detective seemed hardly fazed. All he did was take a recorder off of his computer desk and set it at the table, pressing play and bringing out a pen and notepad as well. “I record all my interviews in their entirety for legal reasons. I hope you don’t mind me pausing to take notes as well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I don’t…” Virgil started picking at his fingernails, “Though I’ll admit, I have no idea how any of this works.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s alright, I hardly expect you to. I’m only going to ask you questions about your encounter with Roman. I’ll try to make this as quick and precise as possible so not to waste both our time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Lay it on me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In your call to my office, you said that you were the last person to see Roman before he disappeared,” Logan said, “Could you restate why you think that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“On the missing poster, it says he was last seen at his house on October 2nd. I met him at four in the morning on October 3rd.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logan nodded to himself and scribbled something in his notepad. “Where were you when you spoke to him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Only a few blocks from my apartment. I think it was like...Washington Road where we met up. Then me and him walked for a couple blocks before I turned back to go home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you remember the street you last saw him on?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No idea. I only know we were near a Walmart.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logan made more notes. “Alright. Now, for precautionary measures, let’s talk Roman’s behavior that night. Was there anything about his behavior that struck you as odd? Perhaps he seemed paranoid, or generally on edge?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil shook his head. “He actually seemed pretty chill to me. He said hi to me first and called me handsome, then went on a dramatic rant about Disney World rides. I wouldn’t really call it paranoid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about any other unusual behavior that might not strike as paranoia to you? Anything you considered to be upset emotions?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean…” Virgil thought back to his conversations with Roman. “...He kinda had a lonely look in his eyes, you know? Like, he kept laughing with me and acted all dramatic and stuff, but he looked like he had something on his mind deep down.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logan looked up from his notepad with a quizzical expression. “Did he tell you about anything bothering him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean…” Virgil went back into his memories. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Roman didn’t mention much about himself at all, other than he was an actor.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>...Wait.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Wait a fucking minute.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil smacked his hand on the table so suddenly that even the detective seemed surprised. Virgil’s eyes widened in shock as he ran a hand through his hair. “Scratch that. Scratch </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything </span>
  </em>
  <span>about him not acting weird, he was acting weird as </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logan actually scribbled something out on his notes. “How so?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>believe I didn’t notice this before- He was all over the place! It didn’t seem </span>
  <em>
    <span>weird </span>
  </em>
  <span>at the time because I thought he was flirting, but he was doing the weirdest shit!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Elaborate, please. What makes you believe he was acting weird?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Everything! </span>
  </em>
  <span>First, he told me about his theater show that he was supposed to star in, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>then </span>
  </em>
  <span>he said he wouldn’t be able to make it because of ‘personal reasons’. He invited me to the show, which is</span>
  <em>
    <span> kinda </span>
  </em>
  <span>weird considering we just met but not really, but then he wouldn’t even tell me the show dates because he didn’t have time to? Don’t actors, especially the </span>
  <em>
    <span>lead, </span>
  </em>
  <span>have that shit memorized? How hard is it to say ‘Oh, it’s on Saturday at these times’? It’s not like he left immediately after that either! We talked for at </span>
  <em>
    <span>least </span>
  </em>
  <span>another five minutes, saying the dates </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> wouldn’t have taken that long!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perhaps he wanted to get away before anyone noticed...” Logan murmured before writing more stuff in his notepad.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, and honestly, that’s not even the </span>
  <em>
    <span>weirdest </span>
  </em>
  <span>thing. So we exchanged phone numbers, right? He told me </span>
  <em>
    <span>immediately </span>
  </em>
  <span>after that he wouldn’t respond to me for the next few days. I thought it was because he was busy, but then...well, you know what happened to him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That I do. Was there anything else that may strike you as strange?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, he sent me a message to make sure we had the phone numbers right. Except he took a picture of himself and sent me that, which like...who does that for a first text message?” Virgil ran a hand through his hair. “I think the most eerie thing about it now was the caption he put under it. He said ‘don’t forget this beautiful face’.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“May I see that photo and the message?” Logan asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil pulled out his phone and opened it to Roman’s contact. It didn’t take long for him to scroll up, but once he did, he handed it to the detective. Logan’s eyebrows knitted together as he held his chin in deep thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you ask about the injuries on his face?” He eventually asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah. He said he tried to befriend a cat in an alleyway and it attacked him. I mostly believed it because he said he was tipsy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logan wrote something in his notes and turned back to the photo. “Those are not cat scratches. A cat wouldn’t leave bruises or bust his lip like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Virgil reached his body over the table to look again at the photo. Logan tilted the phone so he could see, but lo and behold, he was right. Roman’s face was covered in red splotches that signified more than just blood; a bruise was ready to form. The cut on his lip was too deep to be made by a cat, and the bottom of his left eye was beginning to swell too. Virgil hadn’t noticed it in the darkness, but now with it pointed out, it seemed so </span>
  <em>
    <span>obvious.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not to mention, look at his hand on his chest in that pose. His knuckles are busted. The only way that happens is if he punched someone or something.” Logan pointed out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Holy shit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You also mentioned he said that he was tipsy, correct?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, he told me he had a couple drinks. I don’t know anymore than that, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logan wrote down more in his notepad. “Is that all that struck you as suspicious?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean…even in the moment, I thought something else he said was weird. I just thought he was being flirty.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And what would that be?” Logan asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He pointed out the time to me before we left. He said to remember that it was 4:24 the last time I saw him. He said it was because it must be some kind of lucky number...but now I’m not so sure that was why.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logan seemed confused. “What do you think the real reason was, then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...It’s almost like he knew. Like he knew he was gonna go missing and wanted to make sure I wouldn’t mess up the information.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you have no idea why he did this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no idea. I barely knew the guy anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Understandable.” Logan wrote in his notepad again, this time a lot more vigorously before tearing off a section of the paper and handing it to Virgil. “That is the number for my mobile phone. I would highly appreciate it if you sent me a screenshot of Roman’s last messages to you, as well as the picture itself. If not, I may call you asking for it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, noted.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is there anything else you would deem necessary to mention? Or has everything been covered?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think we’re good now.” Virgil hesitated for a moment. “...Though, can I ask you a question?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Certainly. Go right ahead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil picked at his thumb again. “...What do you think happened to him? About why he went missing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do I think?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well…” Logan set down his notepad and looked Virgil in the eyes. “I’ve seen many missing people cases in my time. For the majority of them, they reappear after a week or so with a wild story to explain their behavior. Considering there seems to be no evidence of foul play or anything else to raise concern, I believe he got stressed and decided to escape for a while.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So he ran away?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s my most plausible theory. As of right now, I’m hardly concerned. Despite what the media says, most missing cases in adults don’t end in such unfortunate ways, let alone ones like the Goldsberry case, though that specific information is classified.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That makes sense...though, can I go now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logan nodded. “You may. Though I do want those pictures as soon as possible. And if you come across anything else, you have both my office number and mobile.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil stood up as Logan held the door open for him after turning off the recorder. “I do appreciate your help, however.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh...yeah, thanks.” Virgil walked out and made his way down the hallway, out of the precinct. Logan sighed as he closed the door, sitting back in his swivel chair and looking up at the roof.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His phone buzzed in his pocket. When he pulled it out, he saw two messages on his lockscreen:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Unknown sent two photos</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Unknown: This is Virgil, here you go</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logan smiled to himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That was fast.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span> He’d look more carefully over the photo later, but right now he was more concerned about the locations Virgil had given him. Considering Roman was apparently tipsy that night, Logan had a new theory that he’d gotten into some trouble at a bar and was lying low for a while. Who knew, depending on how crazy of a drunk he is, maybe he got lost trying to run away from home and ended up in the countryside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>loose theory, but the only thing that made this case concerning was the distressed brother that kept blowing up his phone asking for updates. The facial injuries were somewhat concerning, and Roman apparently knew he wasn’t going back home, which was also concerning to an extent if Logan wasn’t so certain he’d run away. Other than that, Roman was an adult male with no history of mental disorders (other than past grief counseling) or physical disabilities. Just like he told Virgil, people like Roman come back within a week and all is well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logan pulled up a map of the city on his monitor, zooming into Washington Road and seeing the possible paths Roman and Virgil could have taken. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>possible </span>
  </em>
  <span>Roman’s case could have foul play. His family certainly expected it, but a hunch is nothing compared to evidence. And as of right now, their evidence pointed to </span>
  <em>
    <span>confusing</span>
  </em>
  <span>, not to foul play.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>There are certainly suspicious parts in this case, but there’s hardly any evidence at all for anything. Up until now, the biggest lead I had was the last time Roman was seen by his brother, which still pointed to nothing. The only believable theory is that Roman’s absurd work overload ended in him running off to take a break with no warning.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Which was certainly more realistic than the drunk theory.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logan noted the street name he believed Roman may have departed with Virgil on. A couple blocks from Washington Road, there was a rather large Walmart on the curb. He took a note to ask the city for surveillance footage by tomorrow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>However, Virgil did say that he took a strange note of the time and told Virgil not to forget it. If he wanted to get away, he wouldn’t have made such a big deal over that.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Or maybe he really was being flirtatious? But who flirts like that?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was all perplexing. There was almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>no </span>
  </em>
  <span>evidence for </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything, </span>
  </em>
  <span>let alone on Roman’s whereabouts. He needed something more than this, something that tells more of the story…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wait.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>...</span>
  <em>
    <span>The laptop!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logan practically jumped out of his chair to head down to the other detective offices. He’d almost forgotten about the laptop! Roman’s laptop was currently with his fellow detective (and friend) Carrie Merchant, who’d been working to see if the data on it could be restored.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was another item that could have either been evidence or something completely unrelated. Roman’s phone was nowhere to be found (most likely still on him), but his laptop could have information on where he went. All it took was a search through his apps, folders, and search history.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except there was one problem. When they took the laptop in as evidence, everything from it had been wiped clean. When it was turned on, it was like purchasing a new laptop and opening it for the first time. Not even Roman’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>name </span>
  </em>
  <span>was on it anymore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Carrie had volunteered to spend the next few hours trying to restore it. Considering she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>infinitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>better at computers than Logan could ever be, he was perfectly fine with this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before he could open the door to Carrie’s office, the door almost smacked him in the face as it suddenly opened. Logan pulled back just in time to see Carrie on the other side, pushing open the door with her foot and paying more attention to tying her hair up than she was where she was going. When she looked up to see Logan, she smiled and clapped her hands together. “Perfect, just the guy I’m looking for!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logan fiddled with his tie. “I assume you were looking for me as well?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yup. I’ve got an update on the computer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you restore it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not at all! The whole thing’s busted. I think it’s just a fruitless effort.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logan blinked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“However,” she continued, “I do have something else. And you </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>need to see it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Carrie led Logan into the office and sat down at her computer. “What is it?” Logan asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think we need to start treating this case as a kidnapping; maybe even a murder.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Explain, please?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Carrie pulled a flash drive out of her computer and showed it to Logan. It was dark red with a sparkly gold crown painted on the side, which was absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>her style. “The laptop was a total bust. I tried everything I knew and looked all over the Internet for ideas, but it was wiped clean </span>
  <em>
    <span>thoroughly. </span>
  </em>
  <span>However, in the disk compartment there was a hidden note.” She plucked a sticky note off her desk and showed it to Logan:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Get my red flash drive. It’s inside my desk drawer.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Carrie didn’t acknowledge Logan’s confusion, only plugged the flash drive back into her computer and let the files open. “His brother let me search through his room again and grab this. I brought it back here and just got done searching through it. Everything on it is wiped clean except for this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logan looked at the file she was pointing to on her screen with the mouse. “It’s a video.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. There’s honestly no way I can explain this. It’s...really disturbing. It reminds me of a horror movie, the ones where they find footage and weird shit happens in it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Play it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Carrie clicked on the video and let it load.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a video of Roman at his computer desk. He fumbled with the tilted screen for a while to get the seemingly perfect angle, but then darted his head around the room as if looking for something. He paused for a moment before jumping and looking around again. Roman’s eyes were full of unshed tears as he gazed at the monitor in horror.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“...Do you hear that?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He whispered, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m not losing my mind. I know it’s real. I’ve been hearing it for weeks.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logan looked at Carrie quizzically. “Just keep watching.” She said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I know it’s in here. I’ve torn this whole place upside down looking for it but I can’t find it!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Roman looked around the room again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s a camera. It’s watching everything I do.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roman bolted up from his seat and walked to the background to open his bedroom door. He looked on both sides of the door before closing and locking it again, but still stood in the background looking around his room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned his back up against the door and slid down the wall, holding his head in his hands ready to cry. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Stop it! Stop watching me, I know you’re in here!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...What the fuck…?” Logan muttered, frowning at the laptop screen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I can’t take it anymore! What do you want from me!? Leave me alone! Please, just leave me alone! I’m sorry!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roman was outright wailing now, covering his ears with his hands so tightly that his hands were turning white. In between sobs he would mumble something unintelligible, curling in on himself more and more as the seconds passed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, the front door of the house opened loud enough for Roman to jerk back up to his feet. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Roman, I’m home!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Someone called out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roman ran to the computer and rubbed the tears out of his eyes. If he wasn’t such a beautiful crier, someone would have noticed his previous sobbing almost instantly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Welcome back!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He yelled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roman turned to shut the recording off, then the video ended.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logan’s eyes were wide with horror. “...Holy shit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m telling you, it’s terrifying.” Carrie replied.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It seems like he’s showing signs of psychosis, maybe? It is more likely to show in males, and he’s in the prime age to start showing symptoms. Having beliefs of being watched happens in persecutory delusions.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Carrie hummed. “I thought the same thing too. But listen to it again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turned the volume all the way up and replayed the beginning:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roman paused for a moment looking around his room. Then, quiet but clear as day, the sound of a mechanical whirring was heard from the background.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roman jumped. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“...Do you hear that?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Carrie paused the video. “It sounds like a camera zooming in. And that’s not the only time you hear it in the video.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She fast forwarded the video to when Roman stood up. Once again, a mechanical whirring can be heard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She fast forwarded again. Roman closed the door, and the mechanical whirring was heard. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Stop it!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Carrie paused the video before Roman could begin screaming again. “I don’t think it’s psychosis. I know laptop audio isn’t exactly the </span>
  <em>
    <span>greatest, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but that’s not a usual sound you hear a TV or computer make. Something’s in that room, and it’s built to spy on him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you think it’s a stalker?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d be surprised if it wasn’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logan put his face in his hands. “Well...between this and what Blackbell told me, this case has become a lot more serious.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Blackbell?” Carrie asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Virgil Blackbell. He called my office, and apparently, he was the last person to see Roman before he disappeared.” Logan opened his phone to the photos Virgil had sent him, then handed it over to Carrie. “He only realized Roman was exhibiting strange behavior when I asked him about it. He didn’t seem paranoid, but Blackbell theorized that Roman knew he was going to disappear before he did. It appears that he was taking precautionary measures to make this investigation easier. Roman sent him that photo of himself under the guise of testing if their phone numbers were exchanged correctly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who beat him up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No idea. He told Blackbell that a cat scratched him when he tried to befriend it while intoxicated.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s a load of horse shit. Did his brother mention him getting in a fight before he disappeared?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logan shook his head. “I could ask him again, but considering he’s told me lots of useless information about Roman’s life, I doubt he would skip over something like that. Plus, those injuries look new.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But if he got in a fight, then got kidnapped a few hours later, are the injuries actually connected?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m unsure, however, I still think it’s important enough to take note of. I want to contact the city for security camera footage at the time Roman was last seen and see if we can track him. I have a general location of where he and Blackbell parted ways.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You gonna contact the brother to search through his room too? Roman wasn’t able to find the camera, but maybe we can.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would like to. I’ll write up a report and do that first thing in the morning.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Carrie smiled. “Sounds like a plan. After all, this is your case, not mine. I’m just helping you out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She handed Logan the flash drive as evidence, which he took gratefully. “I do appreciate your assistance. It would have taken me much longer to find this without you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah. Now scram, I have my own reports to file and I still need to take my lunch break.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logan smiled and left Carrie’s office without another word, looking at the flash drive in his hand as if it held the secrets of the universe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Roman left this behind for a reason. He left that note in the disc compartment so we could find it before anyone else did.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logan took a turn and walked back to his office. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Virgil’s right. Roman did know something was going to happen before it did. So why didn’t he contact authorities?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe he thought the stalker would find out he did, and then kill him before anyone could come and help.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>...Or maybe he figured it was too late for him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Logan sat at his desk and pulled up a document to begin writing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Roman Goldsberry missing person case. Foul play is heavily possible.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tilted back in his chair and stared at the ceiling for a moment. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Whatever happened, one thing is for certain.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>This kid got himself into a lot of trouble.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Virgil opened the door to his apartment, the first thing he did was collapse onto his couch and groan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thank </span>
  <em>
    <span>God </span>
  </em>
  <span>it was over now. He didn’t have to worry about detectives or missing people </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever </span>
  </em>
  <span>again. Of course he hoped Roman made a safe journey back home and wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually </span>
  </em>
  <span>hurt, but Virgil barely knew the guy! They talked for thirty minutes and exchanged phones, it’s not like they were close friends or anything!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Besides, Virgil </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>wasn’t cut out for this. Missing people stress him out enough when he’s never met them before, but he actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>saw Roman </span>
  </em>
  <span>minutes before he went missing. That was too close for comfort.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wished the best for the guy and his family, but Virgil had his own worries. He needed to pay rent, leave enough money on the side for testosterone, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> pass his last year of college. Solving a mystery wasn’t exactly on that list.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>If Roman’s alive, I’ll pay him a visit when he comes back. It’s the least I can do.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door to the apartment slowly opened. “Virgil?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil shifted his head out of the couch cushion to look at the door. Elliott had come home; they were wearing more masculine and less noticeably emo clothes than normal, which already struck Virgil as odd. However, if the look in their eyes was anything to go by, then today had been rough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Elliott. Don’t mind me, I’m just merging with the couch.” Virgil joked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elliott smiled, but based on how they were curling in on themself, it wouldn’t be so easy to cheer them up. “How was today?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Decent, I guess. I got to talk to a detective and skip class, which was as fun as you think it was.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...A detective? Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You remember Roman?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That weird guy you met in the middle of the night and somehow thought was cute?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut the fuck up.” Virgil squished his face back into the couch. “But you won’t fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>believe</span>
  </em>
  <span> what happened.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did he text you back?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nope. But apparently he went missing after we talked.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elliott’s eyes widened as they scooted Virgil’s face to the side to sit on the couch. “...What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He went missing. Straight up vanished off the face of the Earth. It looks like I was the last person to see him, so I talked to a detective about him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Holy crap.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, it’s weird as shit. But that’s all I can do about it.” Virgil shifted to lay his head on Elliott’s thigh. “What about you though? You seem pretty depressed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil felt Elliott freeze. “...I think we might need to get a third roommate.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil sprung up from Elliott’s lap. “What? Why? We only have two bedrooms, they wouldn’t even be able to sleep anywhere.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, I can share my room so long as they’re not overly messy. We can make do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t answer my other two questions, my gender-neutral dude.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elliott sighed. “...I won’t be able to afford rent in time again. Or any food. So I’ll be mooching off of you again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And yeah, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>annoying, trust me, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I don’t like taking all your money either, which is why I think a third roommate would be able to help us. Your rent would go down and so would mine-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Elliott.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elliott stopped their ranting long enough to look Virgil in the eyes. “Why won’t you be able to pay rent? I thought with your new job, you were becoming more stable.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elliott sighed. They stared at the floor for a while before putting their head in their hands, digging their palms into their eyes to keep the distress at bay. “...I owe Mitch fifteen hundred dollars.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil jumped off the couch entirely. “What!? Bullshit! He’s just trying to manipulate you again, you can’t just give him </span>
  <em>
    <span>fifteen hundred</span>
  </em>
  <span> fucking dollars!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But I </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>owe him it, Virge! I </span>
  <em>
    <span>still </span>
  </em>
  <span>haven’t paid him back my rent when we lived together, and he’s so pissed about it he’s ready to take me to court! And fifteen hundred dollars is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot </span>
  </em>
  <span>cheaper than a good lawyer!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I still call bullshit, considering how much that bitch mooched off your money when you were together, he should just call it even.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I get it, he’s an abusive prick. But I want him off my back </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>bad and I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>sick</span>
  </em>
  <span> of him harassing me over it. Half of my next couple checks are going to him, so I basically have nothing to live off for the next month. But at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>then </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’ll leave me alone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil stuffed his hands in his pockets. “...And there’s nothing you can do to convince him to bring it down?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It used to be two thousand, Virgil. Fifteen hundred </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>him bringing it down.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Shit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know you </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>don’t like the idea of sharing a house with a stranger, but maybe if we look really hard to find someone we both trust then things can be easier.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t want to do it. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>didn’t want to do it. Things have </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>been him and Elliott, and there was no telling what roommate might end up popping in. Would they also never pay? Not respect their boundaries? What if they were transphobic?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There were </span>
  <em>
    <span>far </span>
  </em>
  <span>too many things that could go wrong. Virgil had spent </span>
  <em>
    <span>so much time </span>
  </em>
  <span>getting Elliott comfortable with him again after they broke up with Mitch. Some </span>
  <em>
    <span>stranger </span>
  </em>
  <span>was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>going to ruin that for them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “No, it’ll be fine. I’ll just...take up my mom on her favor to give me some money. I don’t like her paying me, but if we need it, we need it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elliott sighed, so tired and defeated. “I’m really sorry, Virgil.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t be, just...let me call my mom, okay? I’ll call her and see what we can do. If things get </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>bad then we can think about a roommate, but I’d rather try this first.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elliott swallowed back unshed tears. “Yeah...yeah, you do that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Virgil didn’t know any better, he would sit next to his friend instead and comfort them as best he could. But Elliott always shut down when they were upset (especially after the </span>
  <em>
    <span>bastard)</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and really, all they needed was some sense of security. If he could provide that, then they’d both be okay.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil locked the door of his bedroom and picked up his phone. He was seconds away from pressing </span>
  <em>
    <span>call </span>
  </em>
  <span>on her contacts before he spotted the paper on his bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The missing person poster. The photo of Roman, smiling so wide without a care in the world. The face of a man that no one would guess would go missing until he had.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil lowered his phone for a moment to look back at the poster. He really hadn’t given it much of a look-over, honestly. All he took note of was the name, photo, date and number on the bottom. But missing posters </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>had more than that. It had his height, weight, age, hair and eye color, as well as where he was last seen (which now needed to be updated from “at his house” to “some random street”). But then, right under the phone number was </span>
  <em>
    <span>another </span>
  </em>
  <span>number.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>10,000 dollar reward for anyone who knows his whereabouts.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>...Well, Virgil </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>know where he was in the middle of the night, which helped with the case </span>
  <em>
    <span>some. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But he doesn’t know where Roman actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>is.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>...But if I find out, then those ten thousand bucks will be mine. It could pay mine and Elliott’s rent for a whole year and then some.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And Elliott wouldn’t have to worry.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil looked between his mom’s contact and the poster. He hated asking his mom for help because it felt like he was mooching off her, and the reward could pay for a hell of a lot more than his mom could ever </span>
  <em>
    <span>dream </span>
  </em>
  <span>of helping with. All he had to do was put in some detective work with a decent amount of patience.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It was tempting. Really selfish. But also really fucking tempting.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil looked back at his phone. His mom would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>willing to help, and he could put this whole stress of Roman behind him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But on the other hands, it’s fucking ten thousand dollars.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>...It was a stupid idea. It may have had Elliott’s wellbeing in mind, yet it was also selfish. But Virgil hadn’t had financial security since senior year, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>every </span>
  </em>
  <span>dollar helped. Also, it’s not like it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>unfair. </span>
  </em>
  <span>If he found Roman, no one would argue that he didn’t deserve it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil closed out of his contacts. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s so stupid.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>… But fuck it. It’s worth a shot.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil sat on his bed and tried to think. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How do you go about finding a missing person? What’s the first step?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, first off, he needed to find out the story. He needed to see if Roman was the kind of guy someone would </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to disappear, or if he was loved enough to be held for ransom. Or maybe even just the kind of guy to want to run away from all his problems.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And the only way to find that out was from people who </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually </span>
  </em>
  <span>knew him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But how do you track down the family of a guy you barely know?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>...The Internet. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Everything </span>
  </em>
  <span>is on the Internet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil opened a tab on his phone’s search engine and googled </span>
  <em>
    <span>Roman Goldsberry. </span>
  </em>
  <span>If there wasn’t a paper on his disappearance where they ask a family member about him, then maybe the good old trackers that post everything about you will have something to say about it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lo and behold, something </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>pop up with Roman’s name. And it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>infinitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>better than Virgil could have imagined.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil clicked on an article with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>interesting title: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Goldsberry Brothers Join Forces for Special Valentine’s Day Sale.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A brother, huh?” Virgil said to himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He clicked on the article and began to read the first paragraph:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Love is in the air at this time of year, where everyone scrambles to get the perfect gifts for significant others before the dreaded 14th! Although husbands may be spending too much money on romantic dinners for their wives, businesses take this as the perfect opportunity for sales. The US alone spends 20 billion dollars every year on different Valentine’s Day themed presents. But this year, the state favorite candy store “Wish Upon A Sweet” owned by Patton Goldsberry has teamed up with a floral shop popular in the candy chain’s hometown; owned by his brother, Roman Goldsberry.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>...Roman owned a flower shop?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The fucking candy store guy was his brother?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wish Upon A Sweet was one of the most popular candy stores in the state. Virgil’d gone there </span>
  <em>
    <span>plenty </span>
  </em>
  <span>of times since the chocolate single-handedly cured his depression, but he would have </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>pegged Roman to be related to the owner.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s a small world after all, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Virgil thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But there was no time to be worried about </span>
  <em>
    <span>candy. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He had the name of the brother, now he needed to find a way to contact him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil went back to his browser and looked up </span>
  <em>
    <span>Patton Goldsberry. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Of course the website for the candy chain popped up, but Virgil wanted </span>
  <em>
    <span>more </span>
  </em>
  <span>than that. Instead, he clicked on a website built to find people that had all kinds of information on it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And there, right above a personal phone number, was Patton Goldsberry’s address.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>...I’m taking this too far. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Virgil looked around his room to make sure no one was watching him being an utter creep. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This guy’s brother is missing, I can’t just show up to his house!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Unless I make it seem like I’m trying to console him…” Virgil felt the anxiety pang deep inside his chest. It was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid </span>
  </em>
  <span>idea, but maybe if it seemed like he wanted to help and told Patton he had met Roman, maybe Patton would be more willing to talk. If Virgil played the part, he could get more information on this guy, and he could make progress.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It felt like such a dick move. But it was also </span>
  <em>
    <span>ten grand </span>
  </em>
  <span>on the line here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Plus, I don’t have to only be there to get info on Roman. I can still be nice to him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He doesn’t need to know.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Virgil stuffed his phone in his pocket and walked out of his room. Before he could go out the front door, Elliott called to him from the same position on the couch Virgil left them in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where are you going?”.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Change of plans.” Virgil said. “Trust me, I’ve got an idea.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And just like that, Virgil was off to a stranger’s house.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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